


Might As Well Face It (You're Addicted to Love)

by Mandibles



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:16:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296250
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mandibles/pseuds/Mandibles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Equius is a cuddleslut and things get angsty for a second, because I can't not write angst. Prompt from the kink meme.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Might As Well Face It (You're Addicted to Love)

**Author's Note:**

> [insert first Homestuck fic disclaimer here] Besides that, the title is inspired by Florence's cover of "Addicted to Love."
> 
> Prompt: Equius ends up in a fluffy red relationship with someone...and it remains fluffy. He enjoys the casual touches and kisses and general lack of fear so much that he's in absolutely no hurry to move on, possibly weirding out his partner.
> 
> Smut is okay, I'd prefer no robot/ghost characters (tactile focus). Also please no Equius<3Nepeta.

“Is that bruise from when you fell from heaven?”

You stare blankly at the figure in your doorway. “I beg your pardon?”

Strider’s face falls. Very few would notice the slight downward twitch of his lips, but you do. You can’t help the tiny blossoming of happiness in your chest.

There’s a sigh and Dave drops down behind you, your back flush against his chest and his (shorter) legs along yours. “ _Oh come on_ , that was perfect timing, man. A little appreciation?”

You feel the familiar creep of bl00 to your ears. “I’m not sure I understood what you said. Is a thank you in order?”

“Damn straight.”

“Then, thank you.”

He hums and you continue what you were doing before, wrapping thick bandages around deep bl00 gashes on your arm. Though you cannot see his face, you feel Dave’s eyes dart to the wounds and bruises on your arms. There’s a frown there, too, you know it.

“Karkat was a little overzealous,” you explain. He grunts.

“What’s up with your kisme-tits this time? Did he get lost in a paper bag again and decide to take it out on you?”

You actually chuckle despite the l00d language. “Kismesis, and no paper bags.”

“None?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Welp, shit. What good are you when you don’t deliver any dirt on the midget?”

You separate the roll of bandages from the wrapping on your arm. You’re impressed; you only added two more bruises to what Karkat left. Now to take care of the rest. You sigh down at your handiwork.

“I admit that I do worry about him sometimes.”

Silence.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

Arms slip under your arms; your thumb tears through fabric.

“Now, that’s my princess.” The words are pressed to your neck, ghosted breath sending shivers through you. “Always thinking about others—shit, did he _bite_ you?”

Your blush spreads to your cheeks. Your eyes flutter shut when a thumb brushes over the bite.

Just one touch and the soreness in your bones, your skin disappears.

“Forgive me,” you say, “I couldn’t stop him. He wasn’t himself tonight.”

A steady stream of air is blown onto the wound and you shudder. The roll of bandages drops and you plant your hands to the floor for safety. Stone easily caves under the press of your fingers.

Dave rumbles behind you, “S’not your fault. He should know what’s off limits.” There’s the slick, hot (hothot, why are humans so hot?) slide of tongue on the offending mark. You make a sound that you really don’t wish to admit you made.

You feel Dave’s smirk.

“You _do_ remember what’s mine, right?”

You nod, eyes still closed.

“Sure you don’t need another run down?”

You’re suddenly aware of the thin sheen of sweat that blankets your skin. Teeth find lip.

“I . . . I suppose a reminder could be in order.”  
Dave’s arms wind tightly around your chest. “Can’t hurt, right? So, let’s start with the obvious.” The slurp of an open-mouth kiss cuts through the air. Your fingers claw at the floor, creating thin grooves, when the kiss is followed by others, all running along you neck. A whimper eases out of you and you tilt your head to give your matesprit better access.

Your fingers delve holes when Dave’s hands trace down your arms.

“Chill.” His hands pull at yours, blunt human nails tickling the skin and, slowly, your hands are freed from their self-made prison. Your lip trembles when his fingers lace with yours. You panic.

“Dave, wai—”

“Shh. You won’t hurt me, babe; I trust you.” He wraps both sets of arms around your chest. You wish you had his faith. He chuckles. “Now, where did I leave off? Oh, yeah, that’s right. This—” He kisses your shoulder. “—and, this—” He kisses the other. “—are mine. Right?”

You nod, but that doesn’t seem to be enough for Dave.

“Didn’t catch that. Might want to try again.” The words are strained as his tongue licks a broad stripe over a cut on your left shoulder.

You whimper again, loud.

“Sorry, what? I don’t speak cuddleslut.”

“They are yours,” you declare louder than you intended. Surprisingly, your vocal chords are harder to control when you’re trying not to crush your matesprit’s hands to dust. Panic finds you again as your joined hands are slicked with another wave of sweat. “I . . . I . . . goodness, I need a towe—— _oh_.”

The strangled sound that leaves your lips is so incredibly _perverse_. Dave grins around the grey finger he sucks greedily. When it slips out, it is clear human saliva that wets it, not bl00 sweat.

“Can’t forget these little guys, can I?” Dave crows, his mouth moving along over the palm and back to the fingers. You mewl when he finally reaches your pinky finger. Dave snickers. “Still taste like blueberries, like Terezi said.”

You groan, more out of embarrassment. The very thought that he likes the taste of your— “It does not,” you insist not for first time.

“Fuck yeah, it does.” Dave snuffles at the base of your neck, inhaling the hair there. His hand goes through the strands. “This smells like cotton candy gumballs. And, it’s mine.”

“My hair isn’t even bl00!”

“ _Mine_ , all mine,” he reiterates, twining your fingers again. “You get me?”

Your face tingles with the force of your blush. “I ‘get’ you,” you say in a small voice.

Again you feel a stubby-toothed grin. “Goodie. So,” Dave’s voice dropped to an intense, completely ironic whisper. “Do you remember the number one no-no that I’d have to gut Karkat for ever thinking of trying?” You do remember; you nod. He presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, his shades clacking against yours. You find yourself craning your head and kissing him fully, your tongue searching for that faith he has in you. You taste it, smooth and creamy like vanilla, and you fall limp.

Luckily, Dave has no qualms about supporting you, and even chuckles when you curl up against him. The purr you give as fingers find your hair again and human warmth seeps down to your bones would make Nepeta proud. You, for all intents and purposes, are content.

However, paradise is not without its faults. As nice as this is, something is off.  
“Dave?”

“Shh. Only cuddles now.”

You actually want to smile at that, but that would be inappropriate now.

“Dave, are you all right?”

“Me? I’m just dandy over here. Dandier than Willy Wonka.”

“Are you sure?”

“’Course I’m sure.” The fingers combing through your hair pause. “Wait, you talking about Dave Jr. down there? Don’t worry, he’ll get over it.”

Sweat accumulates on the bridge of your nose. The hardness digging into your backside did not escape your notice. So _l00d_ , but . . . “That isn’t what I meant.”

The fingers return, twirling dark strands. He scratches at your scalp and you mewl in delight.

He’s sidestepping. You know, because you’ve done it yourself. Until you met your moirail.

“You are upset.”

“Wha? ‘Course not.”

“You are.”

“Nope.”

You (grudgingly) pull away from the warmth and the touches to level a broken-lens glare at your matesprit. Dave returns it with fierce stoicism. After a moment, though, the human visibly falters, his cheeks flushing pink.

Dave sighs and reaches back to scratch his neck. “Is this seriously turning into a feelings jam?”

You’ve never been part of a feelings jam that didn’t include Nepeta, but you nod. “If that is what you wish it to be, then yes.”

The human sighs again and crosses his legs. “All right, okay.” He swallows loudly. “Look, I—” He stops, suddenly becoming interested in your shoulder.

The silence that falls over you is awkward, unsettling. You almost regret bring up the subject.

“Would you rather we—”

“ _No_. No, just let me . . . fuck it.” And, just like that, the shades are gone and you see red. Then, he pulls you into a kiss. “I love you, all right? I love you, I love you, I love you.”

It’s a phrase that the human introduced when you first became matesprits, but you understand its meaning enough to say, “I love you, too.”

“And, I hate what he does to you.”

You blink. “Who?”

“Your fucking kismesis, that’s who.”

Oh. _Oh_.

“Dave—”

Arms encircle you and you lurch forward into an embrace, your hands gaining purchase on the floor with twin cracks. “I hate seeing you all fucked up like this. I mean, it’s bad enough that I have to share you, but to see him hurt you—”

“Dave, I—”

Dave’s grip actually becomes painful the more frantic his voice gets.  
“It isn’t culturally sensitive or whatever, but do you really need a kismesis? I’m the fucking Hero of Time and I feel like I can’t even protect you!”

You, Equius Zahhak, do not think of yourself as passionate. But, when you feel your matesprit’s nails digging into your back, chucking your glasses and claiming his lips comes naturally. He resists at first, taken aback, before he naturally begins to lead. Your tongues meet, your breath comingles, and when you reach for his face, the thought of hurting him doesn’t cross your mind. There is only the need to comfort, to make things right, and it’s so good.

When you break away, in desperate need of air, you have to hold your matesprit back from pressing for another kiss.

“Karkat is my kismesis.”  
Fear flits over the human’s face; it’s easy to see without two pairs of shades separating you.

“But, I am also his. I am not some delicate flower.” You graze the bite on your neck. “I deliver just as well as I receive, if not better.”

““ _Still_ —”

“I need my kismesis, Dave,” you state sharply. Then, your face softens and you trail your fingers down a pink-tinged cheek. “But, I admit, I need you more. I do not wish to lose you.” It is something that you’d realized long ago, but never said until now.

Dave’s eyes flit over your face. A grin splits his face and you find yourself sprawled atop him, your head on his chest. You try to suppress your blush. You certainly did not squeal at the suddenness of the action, not at all. Still, Dave chuckles and kisses your hand, his other arm wrapped around you.

“Damn right, you don’t! You are the most delicate of flowers,” Dave declares dramatically. “My damsel in distress, my pretty little princess; you need my protection!”

You open your mouth to chastise him, but all that comes out is a delighted whine when fingers begin to pet your head.

“And, if that little bastard leaves you all cut up again, he’s officially uninvited to our troll wedding.”

You lean into the touch with a smile . . . then blink. “What is a wedding?”


End file.
